Take One Arranged Marriage… (14 page)

It was late evening when she reached home, and she hesitated at the gate for a while. Her courage was beginning to desert her at the thought of having to face Vikram, and she had to stop and take several deep breaths before opening the gate and walking up to the front door. She wasn’t carrying a key, and for a few panicky moments she wondered what she’d do if Vikram had gone out, leaving the door locked. But he opened the door a few minutes after she rang the bell, standing aside to let her in.

Tara shot him a quick glance as she stepped through the door. He looked the same, she thought resentfully. He’d probably welcomed the peace and quiet in the house while she’d been away. And, though he wasn’t showing it, he had to be gloating about her having come back with her tail between her legs after her dramatic exit a few days earlier. And … She
tried to think up some more reasons to fuel her temper, but it was difficult when he was looking at her as if he’d really been worried while she was away. Desperately she tried to hang on to her resentment—it was the only defence she had against him. She was inches away from throwing herself into his arms and bursting into tears.

Probably he realised it as well, as he quietly took her bag from her and moved away. ‘Have you had dinner?’ he asked.

She hadn’t, but she wasn’t hungry, so she nodded.

‘Do you want to go upstairs and freshen up?’ he asked awkwardly. ‘I’ll clear the dinner things and be with you in a few minutes.’

Tara looked at him a little more closely then, and noticed the dark circles under his eyes, a muscle twitching in his cheek. Not as calm and collected as he looked, she thought, and a mean little part of her was feeling pleased at the thought of his having suffered at least a tiny bit while she was away.

‘OK,’ she said, and headed towards the stairs.

‘Tara?’ he said.

She stopped, not turning back.

‘I’m glad you’re home,’ he said.

She didn’t reply. Her heart was thudding too loudly in her chest to allow her to speak. He didn’t say anything else, and she continued up the stairs without looking back.

She was in bed when Vikram came into the room ten minutes later, and she shut her eyes, feigning sleep. He slid into bed next to her and she felt a warm hand touch her shoulder.

‘Tara?’ he said.

She didn’t reply, keeping her eyes tightly closed.

‘Tara?’ he said again, sounding weary and a little sad. ‘I know you’re awake, sweetheart. We need to talk.’

‘Not now,’ Tara said. ‘Please, Vikram.’

He touched her hair lightly. ‘I’m sorry if I hurt you,’ he said.

Tara flipped over onto her back to look straight into his eyes. ‘You can’t help the way you feel,’ she said. ‘But you could give me some space to deal with it.’

‘To deal with …?’

‘To teach myself to fall out of love with you,’ she said flatly. ‘I’ve been thinking about it. Other people fall in and out of love all the time. I’m sure I can manage it. Then we can go back to being the kind of couple we agreed to be, and everyone will be happy.’

Vikram blinked. Whatever he’d expected, it wasn’t this. She sounded so matter-of-fact that for a few dreadful seconds he thought that she was already over her feelings for him. Then he noticed her lower lip tremble slightly, and her over-bright eyes, and his heart went out to her.

‘I’m sorry,’ he repeated.

She sat up. ‘Stop saying that again and again,’ she said. ‘It doesn’t help. I told you I’ll deal with it. I don’t need sympathy.’

Vikram stayed silent.

After a few seconds she said, ‘Look, let me move into the spare room for tonight. From tomorrow everything goes back to normal and we pretend the last week didn’t happen. Deal?’

‘Deal,’ he said, wanting to tell her that he was hurting almost as badly as she was, admiring her for the way she was handling the whole mess they were in and, most of all, wanting to take her in his arms and comfort her.

He didn’t make a move to touch her, though, knowing that her hold on her composure was tenuous. She’d never forgive him if something he did prompted her to break down in front of him. And it was too early to tell her how he felt. She probably wouldn’t believe him anyway. He needed to be sure she was ready
to hear it before he plunged into declaring himself.

Tara slid off the bed and gathered up pillows and a blanket. ‘Goodnight,’ she said, and walked out of the room, leaving Vikram to face yet another a sleepless night.

She’d recently had the spare room done up in cheerful pastel colours, and she looked around it approvingly as she went in. This was all she needed, she told herself. Some time to herself and she’d be fine. As she’d told Vikram, she just needed to pretend that the week hadn’t happened.

Having settled this to her satisfaction, she latched the door behind her and, flinging herself onto the bed, burst into uncontrollable sobs.

T
ARA
woke late the next morning, still feeling tired and heavy-eyed. She’d cried till late into the night, not able to stop even when the tears dried up and her body was racked with dry, hiccupping sobs. Around two in the morning she’d finally fallen asleep, and had got a fitful few hours of rest.

‘I probably cried as much last night as I have in the last five years,’ she said to herself wryly as she gazed into the mirror.

Her face showed surprisingly little evidence of what she’d been through—her eyelids were slightly swollen, and her eyes weren’t as bright as usual, but that was about it. The advantages of youth and being blessed with a good complexion, she thought, splashing some cold water onto her face and brushing her teeth vigorously. Then she inspected herself one last time in the mirror and, satisfied with what she
saw, went downstairs with a determined smile on her face.

Vikram was already downstairs. He must have let the cook in earlier that morning as the breakfast table was loaded with a casserole dish full of
idlis
, with a pot of
sambhar
next to it and three little bowls of chutney.

‘Good morning,’ Tara said airily, sliding into a chair opposite him and heaping her plate with
idlis
. He looked worse than she did, she thought, giving his rather haggard face a critical look. Anyone would think
he
was the one who’d had a terrible night. ‘Has the cook left?’ she asked. ‘I wanted to tell her to pack lunch for me. I have a full day at the lab.’

‘She’s left,’ Vikram replied. ‘She did ask about lunch, but I didn’t want to disturb you so I said we’d figure something out.’ He’d had an entire night to think about his plan of action, and he’d finally decided to play things by the ear. If Tara wanted to pretend everything was normal, he would, too.

‘I’ll take some leftover
idlis
, then,’ Tara decided. ‘She’s made enough for a whole troupe of
akhaada
wrestlers.’ She looked up and caught Vikram’s eye. He had a worried expression on his face, as if he was expecting her to
go into meltdown mode at any minute, and she gave him a reassuring and rather saucy wink.

He relaxed almost immediately, his lips curving into a smile. ‘Work going well?’ he asked.

‘Extremely. I think Dr Shanta’s almost as impressed at my brilliance as I am myself.’ Tara finished her fourth
idli
and got up to find a box to pack her lunch in. ‘If I’m lucky I’ll be able to move to the next phase of my research before summer is over. I might even be able to get my PhD a little earlier than I’d initially thought.’

She leaned over his shoulder to reach for the chutney and a whiff of his aftershave teased at her nostrils. The familiar scent almost made her lose control. She managed to stay focussed, though, even dropping a light kiss on Vikram’s forehead before she moved away from the table.

‘I can’t wait to be
Dr
Naintara Sundaram,’ she said. ‘Though I guess people will keep confusing me with a medical doctor and be disappointed when they find out I’m just a botanist.’

‘You’ll probably do far more good than the average money-grubbing GP,’ Vikram said.
‘The last time I spoke to Dr Shanta she told me she had very high hopes for you.’

In spite of herself, Tara felt a little glow of pleasure suffuse her face. Damn Vikram, why did he have to start being so unexpectedly
nice
today? As it was, she was finding it difficult not to keep staring at him hungrily all the time. It would have helped if he’d gone into one of his distant moods and ignored her, or replied to whatever she said in monosyllables.

‘I’ll go and get ready to leave for work, then,’ she said. ‘See you this evening.’

‘See you,’ he echoed as he watched her climb the stairs.

He was conscious of a strong sense of loss. Tara seemed like a stranger—a Stepford wife version of the feisty girl he’d married. Perhaps he’d already let things go for too long—he should have followed her and got her back the day she left rather than letting his damn scruples get in the way.

Tara made sure she kept herself busy for the next few days—so busy that she didn’t have time to think. She threw herself into her lab work with a vigour that made even Dr Shanta frown and suggest that she not overstrain herself. She gave the house a thorough spring
cleaning with the housekeeper’s help, and invited some of Vikram’s colleagues over for dinner at the weekend, spending the whole day cooking.

Vikram let her do what she wanted, overriding the instinct that prompted him to force things to a head. She was still too vulnerable, he told himself as he watched her rush about in a manic buzz of activity. Mere words wouldn’t help—he’d probably end up making things worse. All he could do was try and show her how much he cared for her, and hope that in time he’d be able to convince her of his love.

She was leafing through an old stack of magazines in the TV room when Vikram came home the following Monday. He paused by the doorway and asked, ‘What are you hunting for?’

Tara looked up and gave him her most cheerful smile. ‘I saw this picture of a bag some weeks back—it looked really cool and I thought I could try and copy it. But I’ve forgotten which issue it was in, and all the magazines are jumbled up now.’

‘Let me try and help,’ Vikram said, coming into the room to sit on the other side of the L-shaped sofa. ‘Tell me what it looked like.’ He didn’t miss the look of alarm Tara shot him, but
he ignored it—it was about time they stopped tiptoeing around each other and got back to the semblance of a normal relationship. He picked up the first magazine in the heap. ‘Crochet bag?’ he asked.

‘Patchwork, with bits of crochet and bits of cloth and patent leather,’ Tara said. ‘It was towards the end of the magazine. It’s a small picture at the bottom of the page, and the bag’s in different shades of beige and brown.’

Vikram started leafing through the pages, putting each magazine aside as he finished with it.

‘I’ll be travelling next month,’ he said after a brief silence. ‘First to Mumbai, and then to Madrid and London.’

‘OK,’ Tara said. ‘How long will you be away?’

‘Almost two weeks,’ Vikram replied, and then said, hesitating a little, ‘Now that you’ve got your passport I was wondering—would you like to come with me? We could take a few days off and go to Scotland. Or we can stay on a bit longer in Madrid.’

Tara gave him a startled look. Vikram had been travelling at least ten days a month since the day they’d got married, but till now he’d never suggested she accompany him. Of
course her passport
had
just arrived. Perhaps he thought it made sense for her to come along on an overseas trip.

‘I’m not sure,’ she said slowly. ‘I’m at a fairly critical stage of my project. I don’t know if I should be travelling now.’

‘Ask Dr Shanta,’ he suggested. ‘A break might actually be good for you. You’ve been working really hard of late. Even my mum’s being worrying about you.’

‘I’ll ask,’ Tara said, knowing that Dr Shanta would agree with Vikram, but wanting to stave off the discussion.

There was a warm light in Vikram’s eyes that was disturbing. If he didn’t love her, the least he could do was not look at her like that, she thought resentfully. She watched him from under her eyelashes as he went back to leafing through the magazines. Even looked at objectively he was gorgeous. He was still in his office clothes, though he’d loosened his tie and opened the top button of his shirt. His hair was slightly rumpled, falling carelessly across his forehead, and he looked good enough to eat. Tara imagined getting up and crossing the short distance between them, brushing his hair back and taking his tie off completely, leaning
down and pressing teasing kisses to his firm mouth …

‘Is this the one?’ Vikram asked, his voice cutting across her fantasy just as it was reaching an interesting phase.

Tara jumped slightly and tried to look at the magazine he’d turned towards her.

‘Come here,’ he said.

She got up and went to him. ‘Yes, it is,’ she said, not protesting as he pulled her gently down onto his knee.

‘You’re sure you don’t want me to buy it for you?’ he asked, nuzzling her neck.

‘I like making stuff,’ Tara replied, proud that her voice was still steady in spite of the havoc his hands and lips were creating. ‘And I value handmade things a lot more than store-bought stuff.’

‘Hmm,’ he said, turning her a little so that he got better access to the buttons on her dress.

‘Vikram …’ Tara said, struck by sudden qualms. It was one thing to pretend to be unaffected by him when he was safely across the room, and a completely different thing when she was in his arms. Also, she hadn’t made any headway as far as falling out of love with him was concerned, and the feel of his body against hers was driving her crazy. She was at
serious risk of losing control and deciding to confess her love all over again.

‘You haven’t had dinner yet,’ she said wildly, snatching at the first excuse she could think of to put some distance between them.

Vikram raised his head and gave her a quizzical look. ‘I’m not hungry,’ he said, and turned his attention back to the last fastening on her dress. Having disposed of it to his satisfaction, he proceeded to slide the dress off her shoulders.

He lowered his head again, and Tara gave a despairing little groan and surrendered to the tide of sensation that swept over her. The last coherent thought she had was that he only had himself to blame if she wasn’t falling out of love with him as fast as he’d wanted.

‘Let’s take the day off,’ Vikram said the next morning.

They were still in bed and Tara stretched languorously, memories of the previous night still lingering in every part of her body.

‘The day off?’ she repeated. ‘You
never
take the day off. I didn’t think you knew what a day off was.’

‘I do now,’ Vikram said, leaning down and
kissing her. ‘So what do you think? Sound like a plan?’

‘What would we do on this day off?’ Tara enquired. ‘Laze around at home? Go out?’

‘Whatever you like.’

He smiled down at her and Tara felt her heart turn over. It was so unfair, she thought. A simple smile from him was enough to set her hormones raging, and it was evident she didn’t have nearly the same kind of effect on him. And why did he want to spend time with her now? Wouldn’t it make more sense to keep some distance until their marriage fell into the kind of superficially stable pattern he seemed to want?

The questions trembled on the tip of her tongue, but Tara resolutely kept her mouth shut. Blurting out what she was thinking had brought their relationship almost to breaking point once, and the quicker she learnt to curb the impulse the better.

‘Well?’ Vikram said, trailing a hand gently down her arm. ‘Stay in or go out?’

Go out!
her brain screamed at her, but she found herself saying, ‘Stay in.’ She was snatching at every crumb he threw her, she knew that, but the temptation of spending an entire day alone with him was too strong to resist.

‘Right,’ he said, and slid out of bed.

He was bare-chested, wearing only a pair of shorts, and Tara had a strong impulse to pull him back into bed as she looked up at his superbly muscled torso.

‘Put on some clothes,’ she muttered, rolling over and pulling a pillow over her head. ‘You’re a temptation to a good girl, you are.’

He laughed, and leaned across to pull the pillow away. ‘Would you like breakfast in bed?’ he asked. ‘I messaged the cook a little earlier and told her not to come in today.’

‘So who’s going to cook breakfast?’ she asked, tugging the pillow back. ‘Or are you suggesting I get up and make it and then get back into bed to eat it?’

‘I resent the slur on my cooking skills,’ he said as he pulled on a T-shirt. ‘Give me ten minutes and I guarantee you’ll be surprised.’

She
was
surprised, she thought as she watched him leave the room. Not by the fact that he could cook—he’d lived alone for so many years he’d have to have picked up the basics—but by the way he was behaving. A cosy day at home together was
so
not his thing. If she hadn’t known better she’d have thought he was trying to woo her—as it was, she wasn’t clear about his motives.

Sighing, she got up to brush her teeth. It was probably better to take each day as it came rather than trying to over-analyse everything that Vikram did.

Ten minutes later Vikram carried up a tray with a little rack of toast, a bowl of fruit, and a perfectly cooked omelette. There was a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice for Tara, and some coffee for him, and the arrangement of the tray would have been a credit to the room service team of a five-star hotel.

‘Nice,’ Tara announced as she tasted the omelette. ‘Can I assume you’ll make lunch as well?’

Vikram shook his head, laughing. ‘I’ll need some help there. Unless you’re OK with boiled vegetables and rice?’

She’d have been OK with eating vegetables burnt to cinders if Vikram was around to eat them with her, but she didn’t say so. ‘We’ll figure something out,’ she said, wishing yet again that she didn’t love him quite so much.

The morning seemed to fly by. Vikram helped Tara rearrange the furniture on the ground floor—she’d always wanted to move some of the heavier pieces around, but hadn’t been strong enough to shift them without help. With Vikram around all she had to do was
point to where she wanted each piece moved and then she was free to stand and ogle at the muscles rippling in his shoulders and arms as he hefted the solid wood furniture around.

‘You just asked me to move it
out
from this very spot,’ Vikram said suspiciously after a while.

‘Yes …’ Tara said, not daring to admit that she’d completely lost track of the furniture as she watched him. ‘I think it looks better where it was.’ He still looked a little suspicious, and Tara glanced quickly at her watch. ‘Oooh, look at the time,’ she exclaimed. ‘I’ll start on lunch while you straighten everything up.’

She was halfway out of the door when Vikram caught up with her, moving across the large room as lithely as a panther. He grabbed her to pull her back against him.